Tag: cat

Welcome to the Neighbourhood and Sorry for Our Cat

On Saturday morning I happened to glance out the window that faces the back alley and saw two women stop and point at our fifth-wheel trailer and Goldwing.

That’s weird and who are those women?

Should I go out and see what they’re looking at?  I don’t want to look like a nosey, busy-body who charges and confronts everyone who walks past though.  On the other hand, maybe there’s a dead body – human, feline or canine.  Under those circumstances, I should definitely get out there because I don’t want any corpses lingering around.  Perhaps they aren’t pointing at anything at all but practicing dance moves – like John Travolta in Grease – and they don’t need my interference.   They’ve got the pointy finger bit perfect.

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Or, maybe there was something wrong with the trailer and because I don’t want to appear aggressive, the problem escalates into a full-blown catastrophe.  I could also wait until they move on and then rush out, but maybe they are stalking homes to burgle and me going out there might convince them this isn’t the neighbourhood for that kind of activity.

Decisions, decisions.

Okay.  I’m going out there.  However, I’ll pretend I’m on my way to put something in the garbage, so it doesn’t look like I’m suspicious of them.  They are both holding coffee mugs and that doesn’t seem like something a nefarious gang of robbers would have in their hands.

I started whistling as I sauntered toward the alley and at the moment the women could see me, I pretended surprise.  “Oh!  Haha!  I didn’t see you there.”

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They bought it.

Woman 1:  We are just trying to get our cat to come home and he’s under your trailer.

Phew!  So glad I didn’t come out like a Pitbull.

Woman 2:  He’s grey and white.  See, there he is, up on the fence!

Woman 1:  Hi, my name is Steph and this is Erin.

Me:  Nice to meet you.  I’m Lori.

Erin:  We just moved into the house at the end of the alley.  Our cat is Baloshi.

Me:  That’s wonderful.  Welcome to the neighbourhood!  I have two cats.  One is gray….

Steph:  That’s Teddy, right?

Me (wondering how they know that):  Yeees.

Have the neighbours been talking?  Of course they have! It’s the first law in Neighbourhood Rules:  Get to the Newbies first and spill all the dirt on everyone else.  You’re just being helpful after all and saving them from getting involved with the bad seeds on the block.

Erin:  He’s such a nice boy!  He’s making friends with Baloshi and it’s going really well.

Me:  That sounds exactly like Teddy.  He’s a sweetie.  Umm….I also have a black cat…..

I watched the smiles fade from both woman’s face.

Steph: Izzie.  Right?

Me:  I’m so sorry.  What did she do?

Erin:  She sits on our back step so we can’t get out.

Steph:  We tried just stepping around her but apparently that’s not a good idea.

Okay, that isn’t as bad as I was expecting.  It’s a simple Hostage-Taking.  Considering some of her past sins, this isn’t even 4th on the list.

Me:  Did either of you bleed?

Erin:  Oh, no!  She just refused to move so we couldn’t get the door open.

Okay.  No physical damage then.  That’s good news.  Probably a little emotional trauma though.  I’m going to put this at a solid sixth on the list.

Me:  I’m really sorry.  We’ve tried talking to her but she either ignores us or calls us curse-y names.

Steph:  Oh, don’t worry.  It wasn’t that big of a deal.

Sure, you say that now but wait until she steals your car.  She’s already stolen two – the first time with the owner still in the actual car.  She made the critical mistake of having her window rolled down.  One of the neighbours heard her screams and came to get us.  The second time, Izzie just declared the vehicle as hers and refused to let the owner have it back until The Viking physically removed her.  That guy will lock his truck door next time he comes around.

So, I had a chat with Izzie.

“Izzie.  Stop taking the new people hostage.  I honestly didn’t think I would have to spell this out, but here we are.  Hostage Taking is forbidden.  Yes.  Another forbidden thing.  And since we’re already here, let me take the opportunity to remind you of the other forbidden behaviors.  Again.  You cannot….

    • Break into a person’s home and block them from getting out of their own house. Yes, I’m talking about Peter.
    • Steal household appliances. Yes, I’m still talking about Peter.
    • Steal vehicles, whether the owner is inside the vehicle at the time or not.
    • Stop traffic while you clean your ass in the middle of the street. All the honking brings the police.
    • Slap young children.
    • Take people hostage, even if you don’t draw blood – it’s a felony and you can be prosecuted!
    • Bully the dogs on the other side of the alley. Don’t bother denying.  Ross found your collar stuck on the fence.
    • Pick fights with Magpies or Ravens because they come back en masse and turn the entire block into a scene from Hitchcock’s ‘The Birds’ and I’m forced to rescue you. Three birds shat on me last time.
    • And while I’m on the subject of ‘Birds’, you cannot catch birds outside and bring them inside to ‘finish them off’. That’s just gross.
    • And for fuck’s sake, stop beating up Teddy! Geezus!”

Have I missed anything?  Probably.  Give her a couple of days and I’m sure she’ll find something that will require my deepest apologizes to random strangers.  Our long-term neighbours don’t even require an apology anymore – we’re all in this together, I suppose.

So, welcome to the neighbourhood and we’re sorry about our cat.

Pudding Crypts for Cookies

When we adopted Izzie (the black succubus from Hell), and Teddy later (the feline equivalent of Joey Tribiani), The Viking did a shitload of research into the best cat food versus the best price.  After developing a complex algorithm, he decided on a brand and invaded the pet store to purchase it in bulk, both dry and canned.

For three years we’ve fed the Cats the same food and everything was fine.  Until it suddenly wasn’t.  They just stopped eating the canned food one day.  I don’t know why – it smelled fine, it looked fine, the ‘best before date’ was fine, it was FINE.  According to the Cats though, it was a toxic stew that we should be ashamed to call food.  So, The Viking went back to the complex algorithm, found the next best food and invaded the pet store again.

And guess what?  They love it!  They love it so much they’re willing to trample me to death to get to The Viking as he dishes it up.

However, we still had a couple cans of the old stuff.  Personally, I was willing to just get rid of it because it was apparent that neither Cat gave a thought to being fiscally responsible.  We discussed it and they were adamant: not a single speck of the old food would pass their lips for the rest of their lives!   But nothing annoys The Viking more than wastefulness*.

So he came up with a diabolical plan that is only slightly less diabolical (only because he didn’t do it to me) than my Mother’s diabolical plans.  She used to make delicious pudding when I was a kid and then hide old, dead cookies in the bottom of the bowl and we were forced to eat it because child abuse was not quite as frowned upon as it is these days.  And now The Viking took a page out of Mom’s diabolical book and mixed the toxic stew with the new food and presented it to the Cats like it wasn’t abusive at all.

I’d like to say that both Cats noticed immediately and refused to eat it.  But, nope!  They happily chowed that crap down and licked the bowls clean and I find that reprehensible.  It’s like they compromised without a thought.  Where’s their pride?  What happened to standards and expectations?  Don’t they know they have a responsibility to the rest of us?  When they give in to tyranny once, the overlords know they’ll do it again.  And if Cats will cave, then humans will cave, too, because everyone knows that Cats have an aversion to authority that surpasses even The Viking’s aversion to authority.  It is common knowledge that if you want to take over the world the plan begins with Cats and they’d better have good catnip toys.

What they’ve done is create a world of possibilities where any atrocity is possible.  They’ve shifted the current Space/Time Continuum and we now live in an entirely different place.  A place where Mom’s diabolical Pudding Crypts for Cookies is the norm and not considered the unimaginable horror that it is.

And I can’t just ignore who kicked off this current regime of terror – The Viking!  He has become the kind of person who will hide terrible food under delicious food.  He’s become a Monster!  If he’ll betray our cats, it’s only the smallest of steps to betraying me.  How can I trust any food he makes now?  Will I find Pickled Herring masquerading as a pork chop?  Fried Liver hiding under a lovely cream sauce?  Sauerkraut disguised as Spaghetti?  Curry Meatballs pretending to be any normal kind of meatball?

I’ve given this considerable thought and my only option now is to install HD video surveillance in the kitchen.  Yes, I could sit and monitor exactly what he does when he’s cooking, but he’ll bide his time until I need to pee, or the phone rings, or another Just Energy salesman rings the front doorbell, before he slips Kale into something.  I would rather be safe than sorry, so I’ll install a Viking Cam in the Drinking Horn on the sideboard.  And then I’ll squat like Golem in a dark closet with the monitor, watching every move he makes until I can bust his ass for Food Crimes Against Humanity.

The cats are on their own, though.  The little traitors deserve every gross thing The Viking hides in their bowl because they brought this on themselves.

 

*Slow drivers in the fast lane comes in a close 2nd.

Look What The Cat Dragged Home

I’ve been trying to be less of an Introvert lately.  You know, like visiting people and …… well, visiting people.  It’s not really working out for me because the first person to come for a visit wouldn’t leave when I was done visiting.

I should have known better when he came to the front door bearing a big-assed can of coffee.  I was so focused on being appreciative that I never thought about the ironic consequences.  I don’t even know him – Izzie broke into his house and refused to leave until he gave her treats – but I, personally, don’t know him any further than my apology regarding The Queen of Mean’s home invasion.  I’ve only spoken to him once and couldn’t even remember his name.  It’s Peter – I had to ask.

Under normal circumstances I wouldn’t have invited him in the house, but it was cold outside and I’m a responsible user of utilities.  And the coffee; how do you deny a guest coffee when he brings it as a gift? We were at that awkward point where you either invite him in or slam the door in his face and I couldn’t do that because coffee(!) and my fucking cat invaded his home!  Had I known we would be trading Home Invasions, I might not have accepted the gift or extended the welcome quite so fast.

Once inside, I gave Peter a cup of coffee and set a new pot to brew.  The Viking was busy hanging a television on the wall in the bedroom, but he popped out to chat for a bit.  After 45 minutes or so he went back to his job, leaving me alone with Peter.  To entertain him.  All by myself.  She’s not just my cat, you know, Viking!  And speaking of the cat, she just curled up on the side board behind Peter’s back and had a nap.  That’s the thanks I get around here.

I filled Peter’s coffee cup 5 times.  By then, I was just listening without responding (aka encouraging).  The Viking went out to blow the snow off the sidewalks around the entire block and came back home and Peter was still here.  I stood up and started to putter around the kitchen, putting things in the dishwasher, tidying up, that sort of thing and Peter still sat at the table.

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I stopped the refills after the 6th cup.  I was starting to get the feeling that he might be moving in and the coffee was a House Warming gift for us.  He said his house had finally sold and made a point of letting me know he was between residences.  “We have a tiny house, Peter, and you are a big guy!  AND we only have one bathroom!” 

This is the reason I’m an Introvert in the first place, Peter!!!  It doesn’t feel good, it feels like we’re hostages without a ransom demand.  Fucking Izzie!

He wouldn’t even use the bathroom, so I could escape to the garage and barricade us in with a snowmobile.

He must have some sort of space age-y bladder that can hold more than 6 cups of coffee for an insane amount of time.  I considered sneaking my cellphone into the bathroom and calling 911 – Help!  We’re being held hostage by our cat’s home invasion victim!  That would never work anyway because there is no law about how long a guest can stay unless it becomes a Squatter Violation but that takes months!

In the meantime, he’s going on and on about his failed marriage 11 years ago and how much money it cost him and why the political system was the foundation upon which his divorce was built on.

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I realize that he just wanted someone to talk too but I ran out of patience 2 hours ago.  Besides, I’m not even a friend!  I’m just a woman whose cat burglarized his house!

I put the cream back in the fridge after three and a half hours, put his cup in the dishwasher, turned the lights on and said, “Wow!  It’s getting late.”

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I took a moment to wonder if I’m just being selfish, but then I looked at the clock and decided, “Fuck that!!  My entire afternoon is gone! And just because Izzie held him hostage doesn’t mean he can hold us hostage or think he can move in with us – two wrongs don’t make a right, Peter!

The marathon finally ended after 4 hours and 49 minutes – just shy of the 5 hours Izzie held him hostage.  I locked the front door behind him and sagged onto the closest chair.

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Izzie wandered past without looking at me.  “No more dragging humans home!  If you must be a burglar, make sure you aren’t followed.  Seriously.  Do I have to make you watch Gone In 60 Seconds?”

I’m just going to chalk this up to bad luck and a learning exercise.  First things first – I need a front door with a one-way mirror in it and a trap door for those who make it past the front door before showing their true colors.  And then I’ll just go to the visitor instead of them coming to me.*

 

*This does not apply to my 4 top friends.  You can still come for coffee any time for as long as you want.  I’ll make a blanket tent in the family room and have a bowl of Jell-o powder so we can lick our fingers and stick it in the powder (don’t knock it until you’ve tried it).  Sure, it will stain your finger but how important is that compared to the fun?!  Right Judy?

The Queen Of Mean Has Cold Feet

We have snow – a good 6 inches of the stuff.  And considering where Denmark is on the planet, you might be surprised to know that The Viking hates snow and cold with a passion.  The kind of passion that makes him shout and curse and grumble.  Except when he has a snowmobile under his ass and then he’s as close to giddy as he is capable of being.  And I am giddy when he has a snowmobile under his ass because it means he has journeyed to the mountains, leaving me at home in absolute bliss and solitude.

However, as much as The Viking hates snow, there are two other individuals living in the household who hate it more.  Teddy was rescued in the middle of winter when he was about 10 months old, cold and starving.  So, he isn’t a fan of an empty food bowl or snow and cold.  He manages to amuse himself though, running through the house and playing with a squeaky toy and napping and coming for a quick love every once in a while.  He takes short forays outside but it isn’t long before he’s back inside.

Izzie, on the other hand, is pissed-the-fuck-off!  If you’ve visited here more than just a few times you will know a lot about Izzie.  She’s a monster; a beautiful, biting, clawing, hissing, spitting monster.  She learned the basics of civilized cat behavior from Mim’s cats (my daughter) and then Teddy keeps her fairly calm but all bets are off if something isn’t right in her corner of the world.

And there’s snow and the cold in her corner of the world right now.  She has stuff going on and being cold blows her schedule all to hell.  Who’s supposed to mock and name-call the neighborhood cats?  The dogs across the alley will be unmanageable if she doesn’t bully them daily.  And Peter isn’t going to break into his own house and bellow at the door to be let out.  And what about Charlie?  Who’s going to chase him away if her feet fall off?  What about her ears?  Frostbite can make the tips fall off and then she’ll have square ears!  It’s pretty hard to be beautiful if your ears are square!

And then there is the weight issue!  Laying around the house all day slows the metabolism and pretty soon she’ll have a belly like Teddy’s!  And she’s already getting bored with chasing him around the house as the only form of exercise.

With the snow, her existence has gone all to hell.  Her feet got cold and three snowflakes dared to land on her back.  She bellowed at the door and demanded to know exactly what the fuck is going on?!  She stood in front of me scowling and indignant.  I told her that I had nothing to do with it but she’s refusing to believe me.

Her vocabulary is devolving into hair-raising insults and if her scowl deepens any further it will look like I hit her with an axe.  And that might actually end up happening because the forecast is calling for cold temperatures for the next several days.

It’s going to be a long, long, long winter.  Sigh.  When the Queen of Mean gets cold feet it’s only good sense to step lightly.

PS:  To add insult to injury, Daylight Savings Time screwed her over for an entire hour.  I gave up after 45 minutes and fed her and Teddy.  It was either that or say good-bye to what little self-esteem I have left.

What are you waiting for?  Leave a comment.

I’m Not Needy, I’m Demanding!

Teddy:  So.  You’re grounded, huh?

Izzie:  It won’t last long.  They can’t maintain their angst when I pour on the charm.

Teddy:  The Viking seems pretty determined.

Izzie:  Yes, but Mom runs out of patience after a while.

Teddy:  I guess, but why don’t you just come home at bed time like I do?

Izzie:  Because I like the night.  There’s less traffic and fewer people to yell at me to stop pooping in their flower beds.  And, it’s kind of peaceful.

Teddy:  Peaceful?  You are the least peaceful cat I’ve ever met and I lived on the street for nearly a year.

Izzie:  I’m peaceful when I want to be.

Teddy:  Nope.  The only time you are peaceful is when you are drugged.

Izzie:  Whatever.  I like myself unconditionally.  Dr. Phil says that’s what well-adjusted persons aspire too.

Teddy:  Pfft!  You don’t even watch Dr. Phil.  You’re too busy being cranky and needy.

Izzie:  I’m not needy!  I’m demanding!

Teddy:  Well, you’re that too, but still needy.  And what was up with you slapping Mom last night?

Izzie:  She had that coming!  She wouldn’t let me out!  And I didn’t use my claws this time, for your information.

Teddy:  And you thought slapping her would get her to open the door?

Izzie:  I thought that once she understood the true depth of my desire to get outside, she would let me out.

Teddy:  Yeah.  How did that work for you?

Izzie:  You didn’t have to take her side, Momma’s Boy!  You are a cat, and cats are supposed to support cats.

Teddy:  All I did was reiterate…….again……that I don’t want you slapping Mom.  Or The Viking, for that matter.  How many times do I have to tell you this?

Izzie:  You’re still a loser for siding with Mom.  I won’t be leaving you my leftovers anymore.

Teddy:  You haven’t left me food for months.

Izzie:  By the way, why did you show Charlie how to get down from the garage roof?  I was enjoying his pitiful whining.

Teddy:  What is it with you?  You’re always slapping people and hissing at other cats and knocking hats off the customers.  Would it kill you to be nice?

Izzie:  As a matter of fact, yes.  It might kill me.  Germs spread with contact.  And, I like everyone as long as they don’t touch me, don’t talk to me, don’t look at me and don’t bring other cats around.

Teddy:  Charlie isn’t that bad.  He is a bit overly friendly but I think it’s because he’s trying really hard to fit in.

Izzie:  Charlie is an idiot.

Teddy:  Wouldn’t it be nice to have a friend?

Izzie:  I have a friend.

Teddy:  And who would that be?

Izzie:  You, Stupid!

Teddy:  Really?  You’re my friend?  That’s the nicest thing you’ve ever said to me!

Izzie:  And then you had to ruin it!  And no, I’m not your friend.  You are my friend.  I’m not a friend kind of cat – too many responsibilities.

Teddy:  I don’t even know what you’re talking about now.

Izzie:  When you’re a friend, you have to be supportive and kind and give them things and when they do something nice for you, you have to do something nice for them.  And I don’t do nice things for anyone, therefore, I’m not your friend.  You, though, are my friend and it’s your responsibility to be supportive of my causes and be kind to me and do nice things for me.  Like getting someone to open the damned door!

Teddy:  I should have seen that coming but for some reason I just didn’t.  I’m going to play with my squeaky mouse.

 

Share me.

Pains In My Ass

Izzie woke me up this morning – she started the exercise by dancing a German Polka on my stomach and ended with a sharp, single claw stab through the soft tissue in my armpit.  “OW!!  FUCK!”  In between those two events were whispered threats of the dire consequences should I not get out of bed and a fairly lengthy litany of curses.

I muttered a few curses of my own as I stumbled to the bathroom for my morning pee.  Izzie took a position on top of the vanity where she began poking my left cheek with increasing insistence while Teddy swarmed around my panties, purring and feathering my inner thighs with his tail.

“Teddy, I have paperwork to do – get out of my panties.  Gawd!  Quit poking me Izzie!  Geezus!  Teddy!  You’re not helping!  For fucksakes!  STOP POKING ME!!”

They want out, of course.  I slept in a bit and she’s late for her Queendom Inspection where she’ll be handing out Stink Eyes and slaps to anyone or thing that happens to get in her way.  She’ll belittle the two Labradors on the other side of the alley, the orange cat down the block will be mocked and she’ll stop to extensively cuss out Charlie next door just to set a precedent since he’s new to the neighbourhood.  And Teddy, bless his kind-of-dumb but sweet soul, will most likely follow behind at a safe distance apologizing.

When she returns from her reconnaissance she bellows for admittance into the house and then demands prolonged loves.  It was at that point this morning that I started to wonder why the fuck I even have pets?  Honestly, they annoy the hell out of me.

Over the years I’ve had quite a few pets and they have all been a nuisance in one way or another.  Dogs are needy and smelly and dirty and you have to pick up all the poo that is never in one convenient location but spread around the yard like Turdstools.

Birds…..well who really wants squawking, shitting, molting pets that fly around the house if they happen to get out of their cage.  I have enough problems without trying to catch a damned bird with a fish net.

Fish.  I had one of those Siamese fighting fish once which actually was fine.  I would say “Good morning” and wiggle my head back and forth and Norman would swim over and wiggle his head back and forth.  I really liked him; he lived in a small and pretty tank that was easy to clean and the fish food was cheap.  Unfortunately, Norman only lived for about a year and Norman 2.0 only made it 6 months.  I asked for a young fish next time but Norman 3.0 only lived for a couple of months so I gave it all up.  Fuck fish!

Hamsters.  Well I didn’t mind the one hamster I had.  Tubbs was a goofy and chubby little thing and was only awake during the night.  I accidentally killed him because I wanted to find a little house for him and when I couldn’t find what I wanted in the pet stores I decided to make one with a relish jar, fake jewels and spray paint.  RIP Tubbs (I think either the fumes killed him or he chipped the paint off the jar).  Tubbs 2.0 wasn’t nearly as sweet as Tubbs 1.0 and he bit me, the little fuck.  I gave him away to a friend – good riddance.

Cats!  I’ve had a few over the years and the only one I ever liked was the one I got strictly for the kids.  Guess who she ended up loving the most though?  Maggie was a great cat; she was sweet and clean and we didn’t bother each other except for the odd conversation.  She developed Kidney Disease though and I had to put her down.

Three years later I kind of wanted another cat.  Idiot.  Izzie was adorable but her personality turned out to be somewhere between Texas Chainsaw Massacre and Freddy Krueger.  It was a blood bath for nearly a year.  I have scars.  The Viking has scars.  Seriously.  Scars.

We finally convinced her to stop trying to kill us but she’s still loud and belligerent and she shouts curses at us and stares at us like we’ve tragically disappointed her..  Thank Gawd for Teddy who, despite his sweetness, manages to put up with her shit and curtails the worst of her homicidal tendencies.

And she’s a sneaky little shit, too!  She looks all sweet and love-y and approaches like she would welcome a chin scratch and just when you fall for it and put your hand out……SA-LAP!!……and she walks away laughing while you are cradling your severed hand to your chest.

All of this brings me back to my initial question of ‘Why the fuck I even have pets?’  I suppose it’s a moot point because there is no going back; we can’t get rid of them now.  Despite all the apologies we have to make we love Izzie.  And Teddy…..well, who wouldn’t like Teddy?  We’ve had to frisk people to be certain they don’t take him home with them.  It’s a package deal, people!  You take Teddy, you have to take Izzie too!

So, my giant pains in the ass won’t be going anywhere anytime soon.  Sigh.

Izzie – Grow Some Balls, Already!

I have a new collar.  Finally.  Mom took her sweet time replacing my Pearls.  Okay, maybe I’m being too harsh with Mom; maybe the fault belongs more with the 2 dogs across the alley.  Specifically, with the Owner of those dogs because he’s the genius that built a fence with the chain link that broke my Pearls.

And don’t think I had the choice not to bully the dogs.  Of course I had to bully them.  They are dogs!  Yappy dogs!  The kind of dogs that spend the entire day barking and barking, like they need constant assurance from humans.  That gets on my nerves!  I want to take a walk down the alley and Sweet Geezus!!  All hell breaks loose!

“OH MY GAWD!  Bark, bark, bark!  THERE’S A CAT!  A CAT!!!  HELP!  Bark, bark, bark.  SOMEONE SAVE ME!  OH GEEZ!!  IT LOOKED AT ME!  Bark, bark, bark!  HOLY SHIT IT’S COMING CLOSER!!”

Every damned time I walk in the alley!

And it’s not like they are little dogs either.  These are great big Labradors and I only weigh like 8 pounds.  It’s not like I could actually kill them.  Teddy and I sat in the middle of the alley last week, watching them run around their yard in a total panic, barking frantically.  Honestly, we were literally just sitting there, chatting between ourselves.

So I went in their yard to try and have a civilized conversation and come to a reasonable understanding about the barking.  It didn’t go well because the brown one started pissing everywhere!  I started to get a little verbally abusive and the barking escalated and I called the blonde one a “useless waste of fur” and then the Owner came out and I had to make a quick getaway.  Unfortunately, my beautiful pearls caught on the chain link and I was naked, streaking across the alley and back home.  I shouted a few expletives over my shoulder as I went, though.

So, how can I not bully them?  If they were barking death threats at me I would have at least a little respect for them, but the frenzy of fear is just pathetic.  Grow some balls, already!

But now, happily, I have a new collar.  Pink and clear beads.  It’s not Pearls but I suppose Mom did the best she could.  Maybe next time she’ll find Pearls – they are my favorite after all.

Mom tried to get a picture of me with my new bling but that didn’t work out for her very well.  She finally stripped them off me and took a picture of them.  What can I say?  I don’t like getting my picture taken.

If you care, please share.  To Facebook, Instagram, wherever.  I might get my Pearls faster.

Izzie – Making Friends One Bitch-Slap At A Time

Shit!  I’ve been outed!

Last night, Mom called for Teddy and I to come home.  She does it every night and most of the time we comply.  Every once in a while though, we are in the middle of something and we just can’t make it home.  She locks us out and we can’t get in to eat and poop until morning but that’s a price we’re willing to pay.  Sometimes.

Last night she called us a few times.  And then Peter – that dirty, rotten stool pidgeon – calls back to Mom….

“Are you calling for a little black cat?”

Mom:  Yes.  Have you seen her?

Man:  I see her all the time.

Mom:  Really?

Man:  Sure.  She’s a beauty.

Mom (incredulous):  Hasn’t she swatted at you?

Man:  Oh sure!  She swats at me all the time!  But I have bird feeders and she likes to lay under a tree and watch them.  She never catches them though.  They are too smart for her.

Mom had walked down the sidewalk by now and could see the guy that she was talking to0.  He was watering his lawn.

Mom:  Wow!  I had no idea!

Man:  She has a pretty bell and tag so I was sure someone loved her.

Mom:  Yes, we do.  I’m just surprised that she’s made friends with you.  She hates everyone.

Man:  She was in my basement day before yesterday.

Mom:  WHAT?!  She was in your basement?

Man:  She somehow got the screen off the basement window and was sitting on my washing machine.

Mom:  Oh my Gawd!  I am so sorry!

Man:  No worries!  I just let her out the front door when she was ready.  I saw her a while ago, really early in the morning, like 5:30 or something and she was hanging around my front door.

Mom:  That dirty cat!!  She wouldn’t come home so she had to stay out all night.  But that only happens once in a blue moon.

Man:  I was pretty sure that was the case but I went and bought some cat food and I put it out for her now.

Mom:  Wow!  Thank you for looking out for her, even though she tries to kill you a lot.

Man (laughing):  No worries.

Mom:  I’m Lori, by the way.  I live in that house there.

Man:  I’m Peter.  Nice to meet you Lori.  Don’t worry about Izzie.  I keep an eye out for her.

Mom:  Nice to meet you too Peter.  Stop by some time for a coffee.  We run a business out of our home so we’re home all the time.

Peter:  Thanks.  I always have coffee on too.

Mom:  Well, I hope to meet you in the daylight sometime.

Peter (laughing):  Same here.  Oh, there she is!  Good night.

So!  Now she knows!  She told The Viking all about it and he started laughing like an idiot.

They think they’re so smart!  Ross, the guy across the back alley, tattled on me for taunting his dumb dogs and now when they start barking Mom hollers “Izzie!  Leave those dogs alone!”  Ross wanted to be friends but I nipped that in the bud with a good Saa-lap!  I’m only here to bully your dogs!

But then, my collar got caught on the fence and my beautiful beads snapped apart.  Ross brought them to Mom as proof and now I have to wear my baby collar and it’s hideous.

Then there’s RJ and Stephanie who live next door; they are okay I suppose. I like to run through their sprinkler when RJ is watering his lawn.  It’s best when I get really wet and then come home and walk all over Mom’s paperwork.  She loves it.  And again, RJ wanted to be friends but I gave him a Saa-lap! too.  I’m only interested in getting on your garage roof so I can bully the neighbor’s cat!  His kids are a different matter.  I kind of like short people; they don’t tower over me so much.

On the other side of RJ is a guy who wanted to be friends.  Saa-Lap!  I’m only interested in bullying your ginger cat!  The guy told The Viking that I was a bitch.  Me!  A bitch!  Asshole.  Apparently they like Teddy but Teddy won’t get anywhere near other people.

My point here is that I don’t mind people if they just let me do my thing. And once Mom finds out what I like doing, she suddenly doesn’t want me doing them.  So, now I will have to be super vigilant so she doesn’t find any of my other hang-outs.  A girl needs her own places, you know.

Oh!  A Happy Black Cat Appreciation Day!  Go ahead and appreciate me.

 

Help a starving author and share.

 

 

Just Like Us

 

 

 

 

 

It has become evident that The Viking and I have rubbed off on our cats.  You might think that would be a good thing, especially if we are competent at using a litter box, but it’s probably not.  It appears they are picking up only our bad habits and personality disorders.

When Mim brought her two kitties (Dexter & Lucy) for a visit all 4 cats got bent out of shape.  Despite having spent quite a bit of time together (and playing!) in the past 6 months they act like they’ve never laid eyes on each other before.  Every human got at least 2 Stink Eyes from at least 2 cats.

 

 

 

 

 

And then………Everycat started Kung Fu Fighting.

Funny GIF - Find & Share on GIPHY

Lucy was the most committed.  She takes her Kung Fu very seriously.  Izzie was a close second because she, too, enjoys the occasional Kung Fu Free-For-All.  Blizzards of slapping happened with staccatos of trash talk.  They are both lovely ladies but I’m pretty sure there were a few ‘fucks’ thrown around and perhaps a little body shaming in between the lightning-fast bitch slaps.

In the meantime, Dexter and Teddy thought they should be doing something.  Dex made the first move – a half-assed slap aimed slightly to the left of Teddy.  Teddy sent a quick poke that fell far short of Dex and that was that.  Dex sort of went “Aw…fuck it!” and took over the top of the spare fridge.  Lucy finally decided that she’d had enough of the opening skirmish and took over the top tier of the Cat Tree.

We humans started nodding our heads going “that went well”, genuinely pleased with the social skills of our Clowder.  Mim and Brad had to leave for a few hours so The Viking and I were the referees should anymore conversations break out.

Eventually, the house settled into quiet.  So quiet, in fact, that I became a little suspicious and went to check on the combatants.  Teddy was humped up taking a poo in Dex and Lucy’s litter box while Izzie was rolling all over their blankets.

“Our cats are now Passive Aggressive!”  I said to The Viking.  “That’s exactly how we would handle an unwanted invasion into our territory.  You would poo in their suitcase and I would spray something smelly on their bed.”

“Why would I be the one to poo in the suitcase?”

“Because that’s definitely a guy thing to do.  Besides, you’re a better pooper than I am.”

Mim and Brad came again this past weekend and our suspicions were confirmed.  Once again, Dexter took over the top of the spare fridge and Lucy commandeered the top tier of the Cat Tree.  Izzie – she’s the brains – and Teddy wandered down the hallway, probably intending to poo and roll again but something else presented itself.

The Viking and I were watching a movie when we heard a loud rustling of plastic.  I went to investigate.  Both cats had ripped open Dexter and Lucy’s treat bag and were busy munching.  When they saw me coming both cats started to eat faster and faster.  By the time I rescued the bag there were only 3 treats left.

How can I be mad when they are doing exactly what we would do?  The Viking and I would totally eat their treats.  And make yum-yum noises as we did it.

I’m fairly certain that Teddy pooped in their litter box at some point and Izzie rolled all over their blankets again but I didn’t actually witness the crime.  Izzie did camp out on the floor in front of the Cat Tree – an “I dare you to come down, Lucy” sort of thing while Teddy took up a position in front of the fridge.  He was less effective because he is on pretty good terms with Dexter.  You have to give him points for his solidarity to his sister though.

So, now I’m wondering if The Viking and I need to be setting a better example.  When someone comes to the front door I have to admit that I’m a little standoffish but I’ve honestly never got into a bitch-slapping fight.  Okay….there was that one time I almost did but I managed to use my words to drive the person off the step.  And to be fair, they were trying to sell me a vacuum cleaner and dumped dirt all over the front door mat.

I suppose I could be more welcoming.  I could offer refreshments and stale cookies.  Would that make the cats better about welcoming their cousins?  It’s doubtful.  The damage is already done, precedence has been set, a routine established.  A change in tradition might cause more harm than good because cats get crazy about changes to the rules.

It’s settled then.  I don’t have to be any nice-r to people bothering me at the front door and The Viking can still poo in suitcases if he doesn’t like the company.

Competitive Sleeping

Hey!  Nice to see you again.  I missed last weekend’s Coffee Share because I was busy watching The Viking electrocute himself.  Happily, despite fiddling with wires that should have been full of electricity, he is still alive and grumbling.

But enough of that.  How are you doing?  Is life treating you good?  Help yourself to coffee and tiny Pecan Tarts that were made for Dwarfs, or maybe Elves or possibly Leprechauns.  I’m just guessing but I think they were meant to be ‘Bite Sized’ but they aren’t.  They are, at a bare minimum, two bites but are actually an awkward three bites where the last bite crumbles in your hand and you end up having to suck the crumbs out of your palm like a Hoover.  It’s not elegant but it is amusing to watch guests try to be polite.

My week was fairly dull, and by dull I mean boring.  Nothing much happened.  Until this morning.  And then it happened before I even got out of bed.

No.  Not that.

We stayed up too late last night so this morning when the Cat Alarm went off at 8:30 I was completely unprepared to get up.  So I shouted “IZZIE!!  SHUT UP!” which seemed to work for about two and a half minutes.  There were several more shouted threats and curses and a giggle from The Viking who apparently found all this amusing.

There was the inevitable tipping point though.  That moment when I didn’t immediately fall back to sleep immediately after threatening death and dismemberment.  And that’s the moment when Competitive Sleeping happened.

Me:  I should get up and make the coffee.

Me:  He’s awake.  He’ll get up any moment.

Me:  He was up later than I was.

Me:  That’s not my fault.  He made his choice.

Me:  Actually, I think he was trying to fix something with the Kodi Box.

Me:  He loves doing that.  It’s like play time for him.

Me:  I’m pretty sure he wasn’t enjoying himself.

Me:  How would you know?  You were asleep.  He might have been Naked Break Dancing for all you know.

Me:  Come on, now.  He would never do that.  He was trying to fix it so tomorrow I wouldn’t have to wait while he tried finding an available stream for a half hour.  That’s how he shows his love.

Me:  Pfft!  He was probably watching porn.

Me:  He doesn’t need to watch porn!  Geez!  Where do you come up with this shit?!

Me:  I’m just saying.

Me:  Don’t.  Just don’t.  I’ll get up and let him sleep in.

Me:  WAIT!  He’s moving!  Maybe he is getting up and will make the coffee.  Wouldn’t that be awesome? 

Me:  Yes, that would be awesome but he’s not moving anymore.  He went back to sleep.

Me:  So wiggle around a little bit!  Snore!  Then he’ll think you’re sleeping.

Me:  But I’m not sleeping anymore.

Me:  He doesn’t know that for sure!  A little snore would convince him he’s more awake than you are.

Me:  Do you even remember last weekend when he got up early and went out to buy fresh buns and cheese and doughnuts?  Getting up and making coffee is the least I could do.

Me:  Well, if you’re going to bring up every obsolete act of kindness every time you want to be selfish, I can’t see any point of me even being here.

Me:  That might be construed as a good thing, you know.

Me:  So you want to get up?    

Me:  No!  Of course not!  But someone has to make coffee and I’m the first one awake.

Me:  He’s awake – probably more awake than you are!  Do you hear any snoring?  Then he isn’t sleeping and if you’d just make a few sleeping noises, he’ll go make the coffee!

Me:  I’m getting up!  I need coffee if I have to keep arguing with you!

Me:  Well, you’ll have to do the dishes too because you didn’t do them last night.  Still want to get out of bed first?

Me:  Bah!  I forgot about that.  There’s every chance that he’ll just make the coffee and I’ll have to do the dishes myself anyway.

Me:  But!  You’ll have coffee ready for you.

Me:  I’ll just do the dishes while I’m waiting for the coffee to brew.

Me:  You are such a pussy!  I want to stay in bed!  Gawd! 

Me:  Stop being so melodramatic.  You’re just getting out of bed, not inventing the wheel you know.

Me:  You’re not going to wear that are you?  It makes you look fat.

Me:  You’re just cranky because I won’t stay in bed.  You loved this shirt last week.

Me:   Well, I had more sleep last week.

I consoled myself by committing to a nap this afternoon.  I love Saturday afternoon naps when I can curl up in my happy place and spend time with just me.  Sure, it’s a weird place sometimes but that’s okay, nobody needs to know.

Thanks, as always, to Nerd in the Brain for hosting Weekend Coffee Share and Part-Time Monster for inventing it.